


The Presence Of Fate

by carolinecrane



Series: Aftermath [8]
Category: The Brotherhood 2: Young Warlocks (2001)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-05
Updated: 2011-05-05
Packaged: 2017-10-19 00:56:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinecrane/pseuds/carolinecrane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harlan's clothes are too big for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Presence Of Fate

Harlan's clothes are too big for him. He knew before he pulled the sweatpants on that they'd be too big, but he just pulls the drawstring a little harder and ties it tight around his waist.

He's taking his time – okay, he's stalling, because when he finally leaves the bathroom and goes downstairs he's going to have to face Harlan. And it's one thing to have sex with him, but it's another thing to sit across a table from him and have a conversation. He's not even sure he _can_ sit, not without letting Harlan know exactly how sore he is.

But there's only so much time he can stare at himself in the mirror before Harlan comes looking for him, and the thought of that conversation makes his stomach turn, so he forces himself out of the bathroom and into the silence of Harlan's room. He's moving slowly, and maybe he doesn't have to worry about sitting down after all, because as soon as he walks into the room Harlan's going to know. For a second he considers climbing right back into Harlan's bed, under the covers this time to close his eyes until he can wake up from this crazy dream.

Only it's not a dream, and the longer he puts off dealing with Harlan the weirder it's going to be. But his clothes are still in Harlan's car, and it's not really stalling if he stops for a smoke while he's outside. That's what he tells himself while he's looking for his cigarettes, palming his lighter and dropping his uniform jacket back on the floor before he heads downstairs.

He waits until he gets outside to light up, looking around for the first time as he takes a drag off his cigarette. He can't see the road from the house, can't see any neighbors either and he knows they don't have to worry about being interrupted. Not that Harlan seems to care if anybody sees them together – he didn't care when he pushed Marcus up against that wall at school and kissed him, and he didn't care when he picked Marcus up in the parking lot right where anybody could see them.

And somebody had to see them, which means Matt's probably heard about it by now. But maybe that's what Marcus was hoping for, because at least that way he won't have to tell Matt himself. He still has no idea what he's going to tell Matt – he knows he has to tell him _something_ , but the only thing he can think of is the truth, and there's no way Matt's going to understand.

Marcus isn't even sure he understands, because he got what he wanted from Harlan and that should be enough. He should be able to walk away now, but every touch just makes him want more, and he's starting to worry that he's going to keep wanting long after Harlan gets tired of having him around. It's pathetic – way too much like the old Marcus, the one he tried to leave behind when Luc came into their lives.

He scowls at himself and tosses his cigarette on the driveway, crossing to Harlan's car and pulling the passenger door open. When he stretches to reach his bag every muscle in his body protests, and he swallows a groan as he straightens up and closes the door again. He aches all over and he's pretty sure he won't be able to walk by the end of the weekend, and even that doesn't stop him from wanting more.

Just thinking about it makes his cock twitch, and he rolls his eyes at himself as he heads back toward the house. He plans to sneak back upstairs, drop his stuff in Harlan's room and maybe lock himself in the bathroom again until he can figure out what he's doing, but before he even makes it back to the house the front door swings open and he finds himself face to face with Harlan.

"What are you doing out here?"

"Left my stuff in your car," Marcus answers, holding up his backpack.

"You should've said something," Harlan says, grinning in that way that always makes Marcus feel a little off balance, because Harlan's not supposed to like him. He's not supposed to do stuff for Marcus just because, not even something as simple as getting Marcus' clothes for him. Marcus thinks about asking what exactly they're doing here, just to get it all out in the open so he won't have to wonder anymore, but before he gets the words out he hears the roar of a car engine somewhere behind him.

"Pizza's here," Harlan says, and Marcus glances over his shoulder just in time to see a car coming up the driveway. And it's just the pizza guy, but the thought of anyone seeing him and Harlan together makes him flush a bright shade of red.

He mumbles something about putting his stuff away and brushes past Harlan, tensing a little when he feels familiar fingers ghost across his shoulder blade. It's barely a touch – casual, like Harlan didn't even think about it, but that makes it even weirder. They don't touch each other just because, but Harlan's been doing a lot of that in the past few hours. Like the way he touched Marcus' leg in the car, the hand on his back to guide him into the house, even the way Harlan touched him right before he got out of bed. Almost like Harlan _wants_ him here, like he likes having Marcus around.

And that's the part he can't figure out, because a week ago Harlan wouldn't even look at him when they passed each other on campus, and now he's acting like Marcus means something to him. Like this was all some kind of test, and now that Marcus has passed he's worthy of Harlan's attention. It's better than he got from Luc, because he tried a hell of a lot harder to impress Luc and it never got him anywhere.

He hates that he's pathetic enough to take it, that he likes the way Harlan touches him now. He hates not knowing if this is all some big joke or if Harlan really does think he's okay, and he hates that there's a part of him that cares what Harlan thinks. That same pathetic, needy part of him is what made him follow Harlan and his goons into the locker room that day, it's the reason he needed Luc to rescue him and in a way it's the reason he's standing in Harlan's bedroom right now.

His backpack hits the floor with a thud, and he thinks about changing into his own clothes before he goes back downstairs. He thinks about not going at all, but a second later the front door opens and he hears Harlan calling his name. "Ratner, shake a leg."

He considers ignoring Harlan, but he knows if he doesn't go downstairs soon Harlan will come looking for him. So he forces himself downstairs for the second time, following a long hallway into the back of the house until he finds Harlan in the kitchen. It's huge, bigger even than the kitchen in his own parents' house, and the only seats in the room are a row of barstools along the island in the center of the room. Just the thought of climbing onto one of those things makes Marcus wince, so instead he leans against the counter closest to the door and waits for Harlan to notice him. When he finally does he looks Marcus up and down, studying him as though he's seeing him for the first time.

"Jesus, you're skinny."

"Why do you have to be such an asshole?" Marcus shoots back, wishing he'd at least taken the time to pull a shirt on. And he feels a lot more naked than he did a few seconds ago, especially when Harlan laughs and hands him a beer.

"It's the truth, Marcus. You still jogging?"

"Not really."

Harlan almost looks disappointed for a second, then he shakes his head and turns away from Marcus to pick up the pizza. "Meet me at the trailhead after classes on Monday. We can hit the weight room a couple times a week too."

He shouldn't be as surprised as he is, because both of Harlan's running partners are dead and it makes sense that he'd be looking for somebody to work out with. But there are other guys in their class who are into that sort of thing – other jocks, and Marcus doesn't get why Harlan doesn't recruit one of them. Still, running with Harlan means seeing him every day, and there's a part of Marcus that kind of likes that idea.

He follows Harlan through the kitchen, swallowing a sigh of relief when the other boy passes by the barstools and through a door that leads into some kind of den. There's a huge TV at one end of the room that faces an L-shaped couch, and it looks a lot more comfortable than the barstools in the kitchen.

Harlan drops the pizza on the coffee table and picks up a remote, and a few seconds later _Independence Day_ is blaring at them in Dolby surround. Marcus sinks onto the couch as carefully as he can, working hard not to wince as he shifts to find a comfortable position. He looks up to find Harlan watching him, cheeks flushing when their eyes meet and he's glad it's dark in the room.

"You okay?" Harlan asks. Like he actually cares, and that's something Marcus wasn't expecting.

"Yeah," he answers, turning his attention to the movie because he's seen it at least five times, but anything's better than watching Harlan watch him.

He's not sure whether Harlan believes him or not, but a few seconds later the other boy sits down and sets the pizza box on the couch between them, and Marcus blushes all over again when he realizes Harlan's making sure he doesn't have to move. It's embarrassing, but it's kind of…nice, and nothing like the Harlan he thought he knew. Then again, he never expected to find himself in Harlan's house, eating pizza and watching movies like they're friends or something.

"I never figured you for a Sci-Fi fan," he says, stealing a shy glance at Harlan as he reaches for a slice of pizza.

Harlan laughs at that, legs sprawled in front of him and Marcus blushes all over again when he catches Harlan watching him instead of the movie. "It's a good movie. Besides, James Duval is hot."

Something else Marcus didn't expect, and it makes him wonder all over again what the hell he's doing here when Harlan could have anybody he wanted. Only he seems to want Marcus, and that doesn't make sense in any universe Marcus can think of. He's seen a lot of crazy stuff in the past couple months, though, and compared to everything that happened with Luc, Harlan Ratcliff wanting him almost seems possible.

"Is this what you used to do with Randall?"

"What, watch movies or screw around?" Harlan's laughing at him – Marcus doesn't have to look to know he's grinning, but he does anyway, blushing even harder when he finds Harlan still watching him.

"Forget it."

"You're a real piece of work, Ratner, you know that? If you wanna know if I fucked him, say so."

He wasn't really planning to ask – he's not even sure he wants to know, but now that it's out there he can't take it back. "Did you?"

"A couple times, yeah. But mostly he just liked giving head."

An image flashes in his mind of Randall on his knees, that stupid grin on his face and Marcus knows from experience he wouldn't be able to smile and suck Harlan off at the same time, but that doesn't stop him from picturing it. And he's not jealous, because Randall's dead and Marcus is here now, but he can't help wondering if any of this would have happened if Randall and Alex were still alive. He wonders if Randall was good at it, if that's what Harlan was thinking about the one time Marcus went down on him.

He doesn't notice Harlan moving until the pizza box slides out from between them, then Harlan's reaching for his beer and setting it on the coffee table. He opens his mouth to argue, to ask what Harlan thinks he's doing, but before he gets the words out that mouth is pressed against his and Harlan's pressing him back against the couch cushions. His body protests against the sudden movement, but he barely notices because Harlan's chest is bare and warm against his, and Harlan's hands are stroking down his sides.

By the time Harlan lets him up for air Marcus is flat on his back, legs tangled together and he's not picturing Randall anymore. He thinks maybe that was the whole point, that maybe Harlan can read his mind, or maybe he's just that predictable. He's not even sure he cares, because Harlan's grinning at him in that way that's almost affectionate, and somehow Marcus' arms wound up wrapped around his neck while he wasn't paying attention.

"He never wanted to do this," Harlan says, murmuring the words against Marcus' mouth just before he kisses him again. And Marcus can't help thinking that Randall was missing out, because Harlan's a hell of a kisser. "We were just screwing around. That was different."

"Different than what?" Marcus asks, forcing the words out around the sudden tightness in his chest. It's hard to breathe suddenly, and he's pretty sure it's not just because Harlan's weight is pressing him into the couch.

"Than this," Harlan answers, then he's kissing Marcus and he doesn't care if he never breathes again.


End file.
